


Lost and Found

by Lovespie (Snarryeyes)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Lovespie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt given by the lovely Juno: The first pet that chooses them as a couple or that they choose as a couple or that is somehow involved in getting them together. Let there be schmoop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satismagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satismagic/gifts).



> Whipped up for the Fifty Shades of Pinto challenge. Unbeta'd so apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Not real. No offense intended to those portrayed herein.

“Stop the car!”

“What? Why?”

“Just stop, Zach!”

Briefly checking his mirror so that his night didn’t end in the worst kind of rear-ending, Zach slammed on the brakes and pulled over. To say he was confused was an understatement. They’d been having a perfectly normal conversation on the drive to Chris’ place, Zach having offered to drop him off on the way back from the bar where they’d been hanging out for most of the night. Then Captain Shouty had made a sudden appearance.

“What the fuck, Chris? Chris!”

But Chris was already getting out of the car. Zach replayed the last part of their conversation for any clue as to why Chris was literally leaping out onto the street.

“Hang on!” Chris shouted as he jogged back the way they’d come.

Frowning, Zach watched him in his rearview mirror. He thought it might be an emergency coffee stop—actually looked around for a vendor—because that was just the kind of thing he’d expect from Chris. What he didn’t expect was for him to walk back to the car carrying what appeared to be a dirty lumpy rug. It was only when Chris slid awkwardly back into his seat, that Zach realized that it was actually a dog—a golden retriever, to be more accurate, although it was barely recognizable as such.

“What—“

“I saw him lying at the side of the street. I think he got hit by something.”

“Oh my god…” Zach reached over to gently stroke the dog, who lifted his head a fraction. Now Zach was looking more closely, he could see blood in the clumps of wet matted fur. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“His leg is busted up pretty badly,” Chris said, grimacing. “Do you know where the nearest animal shelter is?”

“Uh… sure, I think there’s one about four blocks over.”

Chris nodded, hooking his foot under the door to tug it closed. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Seatbelt,” Zach prompted.

“Zach…” Chris made a kind of helpless gesture, both hands full of dog, at which point Zach reached over and pulled the belt across both of them. 

“Safety first.”

Chris kept up a gentle mantra of reassurance, holding the dog close, as Zach drove them to the shelter, and Zach couldn’t help but listen. Chris didn’t know this dog, or have one of his own, but he spoke to him like a cherished pet, and the dog whined softly in response, weakly attempting to lick Chris’ face. When Zach glanced over at them at a stop sign, he noticed that Chris’ eyes were overly bright.

“Are you _crying_?”

“No,” Chris replied defensively. “I’m empathizing.”

“Oh my god, you are too precious.”

“Shut up and drive.”

When they arrived, Chris insisted on carrying the dog into the shelter himself. Thankfully, due to the late hour, they were seen almost immediately by the on-duty vet, a guy who looked to be around their age. There was the familiar double-take when he greeted them, which Chris was pretty used to by now, and which was completely understandable in this case—Kirk and Spock don’t walk into an animal shelter every day—but thankfully, after that his focus was on the dog.

“This one’s been in the wars, I see.”

“Yeah, we found him over on Prospect.”

“Hmm. No collar.” The vet grabbed a scanner off the counter and ran it over the dog’s shoulders. “No microchip either, so I’m guessing he’s a stray.” He began a gentle examination, and Zach and Chris both winced in unison as the dog yelped loudly. “Sorry, boy.” 

Chris worried his bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers were still buried in the retriever’s fur, flexing and relaxing rhythmically. Zach had a feeling that it was to reassure himself as much as the dog. The silence stretched for a couple of tense minutes before Chris broke it. “Will he be okay?”

The vet straightened, his expression making Zach’s stomach drop. “The leg is definitely broken in a couple of places, but we have no way of knowing what internal injuries he’s sustained until we do a full x-ray. I have to warn you, he’s not a young dog by any means. If the injuries are too severe, we may have to euthanize.”

“Please do what you can,” Chris said without hesitation. “Whatever the cost—I’ll cover it.”

A small smile lightened the vet’s face. “Okay, I’ll take him through. Do you want to leave me your number or—“

“I’ll stay,” Chris stated, and received a nod. 

As they returned to the deserted waiting area, Chris shot Zach an apologetic look. “You can go if you want; I can get a cab or something.”

“And leave you to fret by yourself?” Without waiting for an answer, Zach grabbed a magazine from a scattered pile on a nearby table and sat down. Chris took the seat next to him, exuding gratitude.

“You know you’re setting a precedent,” Zach continued, flicking idly through the glossy pages. “Saving that cat in the tree, now this dog… you should probably just go ahead and get the mask and cape now.”

Chris broke into a reluctant smile and nudged Zach’s elbow, dislodging the magazine. It was by no means the brightest smile he had in his arsenal, but it was enough.

“Noah and Skunk are going to think you’ve been cheating on them.”

“Or they’ll get off on the new smell and try to hump my leg.”

“We all have needs, man,” Chris said matter-of-factly.

Zach raised one eyebrow. “You want to hump my leg, too?”

“Shut up.” Chris laughed—that rich rumble that Zach would recognize across a crowded room. “You know what I mean.”

“I think I do.”

Which was true. He knew there was something going on between them—had been for quite some time, through filming, press tours, shared rooms, charged moments, and drunken half-confessions. It was never spoken of within the confines of sobriety, never defined, but it was there. And it had become even stronger since Zach had moved back to LA, helped along by being able to spend a great deal more time together. It had felt like a homecoming to Zach in more ways than one. 

Now Chris was leaning against him, just as he always did whenever they sat together, completely comfortable in the knowledge that it would be allowed without question. One of these days, Zach might just question it.

Chris fell asleep like that, head lolling onto Zach’s shoulder. Zach shifted down in his seat a little to accommodate him, and it occurred to him that he’d started doing that automatically—being there for anything Chris needed. Why else would he be in an uncomfortable plastic chair in an animal shelter waiting room in the middle of the night with Chris drooling on his shoulder? The revelation almost Zach shift away from him, just to prove that he could.

When the vet returned, Zach shook Chris awake. He was asleep to alert within seconds, jumping out of his chair, all of the worry rushing back. But, fortunately, the news was good.

“No severe internal injuries as far as I can tell. I’ve repaired the leg and put a cast on it, and inserted an IV line to replace his lost fluids, but he should be just fine.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris said shakily, as if the dog had been his companion for a lifetime rather than a ten minute drive. “Can I see him?”

If the vet was surprised by the strength of Chris’ reaction, he didn’t show it. “Sure. This way.”

The dog was lying on a comfortable bed in one of the larger cages, his head incased in an Elizabethan collar to prevent him from pulling out his IV or biting the fresh cast on his leg. He certainly looked cleaner now, although not much happier. However, his subdued expression lifted as Chris drew closer and he immediately attempted to lick Chris’ hand through the bars, tail wagging feebly.

“Hey, buddy! Yeah, you’re okay. These nice people are gonna look after you.”

The vet inclined his head, now looking slightly uncomfortable. “He can stay tonight, but unfortunately our kennels are full so we’d have to find him a place elsewhere after that… unless you know of anyone who can take him.”

Chris didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take him.”

“Are you sure?” Zach said, frowning. “What about when you’re out of town or—“

“You manage,” Chris countered. “So can I. Anyway, Katie loves dogs. I’m sure she won’t mind babysitting occasionally. What d’ya say, Prospector?” he added, beaming when a wet tongue finally found his fingers. “Wanna come home with me? Yeah?”

“Great,” the vet said, flashing a relieved smile. “I’ll go and organize the paperwork.”

“Prospector,” Zach deadpanned as soon as the vet was out of earshot.

“What?” Chris challenged. “He’s old and gray around his muzzle, and he was found on Prospect, where he was probably rooting around for some doggy treasure. Prospector!”

“Uh-huh.” Zach tried his best to ignore the worker who idly glanced at them as she walked past, emitted an undignified squawk, and quickly retreated to a back room. Chris was totally oblivious, as he often was—blind to the way he affected people.

“He can be a new playmate for Noah and Skunk! Actually, probably more like a wise grandfather figure…”

“You’ve officially lost your mind. You know that, right?”

The vet gave Chris the paperwork to take with him and fill out, and they organized for him to pick Prospector up the following day. Thankfully he didn’t have any filming commitments for another month or so. Plenty of time to sort out details, or so Chris assured Zach on their way out.

“So… you have dogs,” Chris continued as they got into the car. “What do I need?”

Zach shook his head. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“I have some,” Chris said unconvincingly. 

Zach stared him down. 

“Okay, okay, can you come doggy supply shopping with me tomorrow?” Chris asked. “Pretty please?” he added, batting his eyelashes in a ridiculous, yet strangely alluring manner.

And of course Zach caved. “Fine.”

Five minutes later Chris was asleep again and Zach had the rest of the drive to think about the fact that their relationship felt increasingly domestic, and how _that_ felt completely natural.

***

Chris had evidently only just rolled out of bed when Zach arrived the next morning. He yawned as he beckoned Zach inside and padded barefoot into the kitchen in his ratty t shirt and sweatpants, glasses on rather than contacts. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Take ten,” Zach said, following the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

“You want one?” Chris asked through another yawn that made him slop coffee over the side of the mug as he poured.

“Sure. I can do it, though. Go get dressed.”

“Yes, Mom.” Chris saluted, grabbing his mug. Zach was hard-pressed not to swat his ass as he passed.

Surprisingly, Chris re-emerged within the ten minute time-frame, now wearing jeans and a considerably less ratty t shirt. His hair was still ridiculous and sleep ruffled, but Zach reasoned that he was probably going to hide that under a hat in an attempt to go incognito—which almost never worked. The paps could generally smell fame from twenty meters. Hats and glasses were too cliché. Not that that stopped Zach from wearing them, too.

It took most of the morning, and the perusal of several stores, before Zach was satisfied that Chris was fully equipped to deal with what was ahead. He kept an eye out for paps and they returned to the car, laden with goods—it wasn’t hard to imagine what the headlines would say if photos of this got out. It looked, to all intents and purposes, like they were setting up home together. Fortunately, their luck held and they managed to get back to Chris’ place without being accosted.

They were met with a different dog when they returned to the shelter that afternoon, or that’s how it seemed. Despite his cast, Prospector was instantly up on his feet when he saw them, eyes bright, tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Chris greeted him as the cage door was opened, laughing as his hand and then his face was covered with copious amounts of doggy saliva. “You ready to come home? Yeah?” He pulled out the brand new collar and leash he’d purchased that morning, carefully securing the collar below the cumbersome plastic cone around his head.

“You can try taking that off when you get home if you like,” the nurse said, smiling. She’d been a little flustered when they’d first arrived, but had managed to stay completely professional. “See how he gets on without it.”

Chris nodded, flashing a smile her way. “Thanks.”

A little while later, paperwork and payment completed, and with all necessary medications, they were back in the car—Chris’ car this time. Prospector sat on the back seat on the drive home, poking his nose out of the open window, tongue lolling lazily.

“Did Skunk and Noah hold last night against you?” Chris asked, keeping an eye on Prospector in the rearview mirror.

Zach snorted. “No, they were more interested in food. They’re like you in that respect.”

“So _funny_ ,” Chris said, faking a laugh. “So, do you want to hang out with us this afternoon or do you have other plans?”

Zach considered it. Having spent the last twenty hours or so in Chris’ company, perhaps he should go home. Walk the dogs. Do the laundry. But, frankly, that wasn’t nearly so appealing. “No plans,” he said.

“Okay, how about a pizza and movie marathon?”

“As long as I get to veto your bad movie choices.”

Chris looked like he was going to protest but apparently thought better of it. “Deal.”

Many hours later, when the credits rolled on Sunset Boulevard—the final stop on their cinematic journey—Zach stretched and glanced across at Chris, who, of course, was fast asleep. Had been for the better part of an hour. Prospector was sprawled across him, sans plastic collar. He’d proven himself worthy of their trust, only sniffing at the offending cast and giving it a cursory lick before ignoring it completely.

Zach grabbed his phone, idly checking it for messages. The last message he’d received had been from Joe, agreeing to stop by his place and feed the kids and asking if he was on a hot date, complete with a winking face. Zach had ignored the question, tapping out a simple thanks. He had felt a small frisson of guilt, both for bailing on Noah and Skunk for a second night in a row and for implying that what he was doing was more important. He knew exactly what Joe would say if he knew Zach was at Chris’ place, and it would go far beyond a winking emoticon.

Sighing, he turned the movie off and shifted. It could have been the movement or maybe the abrupt silence that woke Chris up, but when Zach turned he met sleepy eyes. 

“What time is it?” Chris asked, rubbing a hand across his face.

“A little after one.”

Chris groaned, attempting to sit up. “You want to crash here tonight?”

It was true that Zach really didn’t feel like driving home. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, man. You know the guest room is always yours if you want it.” Chris yawned, stretching so that a smooth expanse of golden skin was revealed below the hem of his shirt. Zach forced himself to keep his gaze on Chris’ face. “Hey, if you’re lucky, I might even make you breakfast,” he added, smirking.

“How can I resist?” Zach joked weakly, because it was clear his power to resist anything Chris offered was almost non-existent. He pushed off the couch. “I might turn in, then. Goodnight, Chris.”

“’Night.”

***

The next morning, Zach woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. It was LA’s form of an alarm clock, something he hadn’t missed all that much in New York.

In need of a shower, but needing caffeine more, he wandered into the kitchen. He’d figured that’s where Chris would be, but there was a distinct lack of his promised breakfast. He could hear Chris, though, so he was at least still in the house. Putting the coffee machine on, he followed the sound of Chris’ voice, eventually finding him in the master bathroom, trying—and apparently failing—to convince Prospector of his need to take a bath. Zach paused in the doorway, content to watch and store up some ammunition to use at a later time.

“Come on, buddy,” Chris said, trying to keep all four flailing limbs in the tub, the one encased in plastercast protected by a waterproof sock. “Look, this isn’t my idea of a party either you know, but you stink. Yes, you do. Oh, geez, and your breath isn’t great either.” Catching sight of Zach leaning in the doorway, he grinned sheepishly. “I _think_ I’m winning.” 

Zach snorted, taking in the amount of water on the floor and the large amount of dirt still on the dog. “The jury’s out on that one.”

Taking advantage of Chris being distracted, Prospector made another break for freedom.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Chris said, thwarting the attempt. “Geez, will you stop being such a baby? It’s just warm soapy water. Look.” And with that, Chris climbed into the tub fully clothed and sat down, splashing around merrily while Prospector—who had momentarily stopped scrabbling for an exit—looked at him like he was crazy. “Bath time is fun!”

It was such an utterly ridiculous scene—so completely _Chris_ —that Zach couldn’t help laughing, nor could he help the words that tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I love you.”

And there it was, stated as plainly as it could be, hanging in the air between them as Chris looked up, surprise coloring his features. Now would be the time to qualify it, to brush it off with laughter, but Zach couldn’t bring himself to. Because he knew now that it was true. So he found himself waiting, both terrified and foolishly hopeful.

Chris straightened and climbed out of the tub, apparently not caring that he was flooding the floor with even more dirty water, his expression intense. Zach couldn’t decipher if it was a good or bad intensity, and he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to Chris as he approached, the need to speak, to say _something_ increasing with every step.

“Chris…” he started, unsure what he was going to say next. 

His few seconds of hesitation allowed Chris to close the distance completely, curl a hand around Zach’s neck, and crush their lips together. A small whimper escaped Zach’s mouth—something he would deny all knowledge of later—and then his lips parted and he was lost to a whirlpool of sensation.

“That was the least romantic declaration of love I’ve ever heard,” Chris said against Zach’s lips once they’d parted, smiling widely as he opened his eyes—no longer intense but peaceful; a sparkling ocean on a summer’s day. “And the most wonderful.”

Giddy with happiness and no small amount of relief, Zach kissed him again. He had a feeling that the thrill of being able to do so would not wear off any time soon. “You smell of dog,” was his reply.

Chris barked out a laugh. “Wow, thanks. I love you, too.”

“Do you?” Zach blurted. Okay, apparently he hadn’t got full control back over his mouth yet.

“Yeah,” Chris said, smile softening. “I do. I kind of have for a while, but you had a boyfriend and I wasn’t sure if you even felt the same way—“

“Stop talking,” Zach said, closing the distance to kiss him again. The resulting spark of arousal was no less intense.

Chris groaned as Zach’s lips moved to his neck. “As much as I would like to explore this further, and I would really _really_ like to…” He glanced over his shoulder at Prospector, who was steadily repainting the bathroom tiles, “first we have a dog to clean.”

Zach lifted his head, eyebrow raised. “We?”

“It’ll get done quicker with two,” Chris grinned, hand sliding from Zach’s neck down to his chest. But he didn’t pull back. Neither of them wanted to let go yet. “Then we can concentrate on cleaning each other… maybe get a little dirtier first.”

The wicked gleam in Chris’ eyes instantly had Zach harder than a steel rod in winter. “Okay, Prospector,” he called enthusiastically, stepping around Chris and clapping his hands. “Let’s get you clean!”

He heard Chris’ laughter, felt the slide of his hand across his back as they set about their task, a fresh—and far more appealing—objective compelling them to get it done even faster. And it was worth every lick, and every scratch, and every splash of dirty water once Zach was pressed up against Chris in the shower, watching the pleasure crest and break in the deep pools of his eyes, swallowing his contented sigh.

Just outside the shower, his fur back to a clean golden hue, Prospector lay with his head on his paws, patiently waiting for them.


End file.
